


Distance

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Exhibitionism, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Power Play, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 16:41:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13415361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Entertainment’s always better live, and Noctis has two entrancing men under his command.





	Distance

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Porn is better when it's live, right? And Noct does have two sexy men under his command. Gladio and Ignis fuck in front of him, while he directs and lazily jerks off. + Ignis and Gladio aren't actually in a relationship, but they're happy to do this for Noct ++ Prompto's reaction when he finds out” prompt on [the FFXV kinkmeme](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4398.html?thread=7490350#cmt7490350).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Another deep thrust of Gladiolus’ thick fingers, and Ignis arches off the bed, breath hitching and cut short. Noctis watches the subtle shiver rack through his slender frame, ricocheting up all the way from crotch to throat, until his head is tossing back, lips parted in a silent scream. His glasses fall aside, and with one shuddering breath, Ignis reaches up to push them back into place. His other hand is clutching tightly to the white sheets of Noctis’ bed, rumpled beneath his naked form and Gladiolus’ massive body.

Noctis, sprawled out in a chair beside it, eyes both men in turn. Both of them are handsome, exceedingly attractive, though in very different ways—Ignis’ is a lithe, graceful beauty, Gladiolus’ a broad, raw ruggedness. It’s a delectable combination, one that Noctis gets to see in all its glory, utterly exposed. While he himself is fully dressed, neither his advisor nor his shield have retained their clothes, save for the knee-high socks still clinging to Ignis’ pale legs. They’re hiked up over Gladiolus’ broad shoulders, Gladiolus sitting squarely between them while he works. Three fingers—which, on Gladiolus, is almost the equivalent of Noctis’ whole hand—are buried inside Ignis’ puckered hole, smeared liberally with lube. There’s a wet squelching sound when Gladiolus withdraws those busy digits, and Ignis bites his lip, eyes fluttering closed as his hole twitches wildly. Noctis shoves the heel of his palm against his crotch. He knew that this would do it for him.

Porn sometimes does, but _live porn_ is infinitely better, and Noctis just happens to have two loyal, delicious men firmly under his command. It wasn’t particularly difficult to get them into the bedroom of his apartment, to order them to strip one another down, to tell Gladiolus to shove his tongue into Ignis’ waiting mouth. They were both happy to oblige. Ignis has always been happy to do whatever Noctis asks, and Gladiolus had been wanting a big tip for all he tolerates. It seemed so easy: a natural progression.

Gladiolus wipes the leftover lube along his mammoth cock, which twitches in his hand. It’s easily the biggest dick that Noctis has ever seen, but that was just about what he expected. Ignis’ is, perhaps, equally as long, but thin and smooth, whereas Gladiolus is as fat as all his muscles, bulging with that certain air of _strength_ , rippled with veins and tipped in an angry red. He plays with himself as he stares down at the man splayed out before him, while Ignis stares back, hazy-eyed but patient. His own shaft arches stiffly off his stomach, but he doesn’t touch it. Noctis knows he won’t until he’s told.

Gladiolus asks him, “Ready?” Ignis nods, arching again as though offering himself up for sacrifice: both for Gladiolus’ use and Noctis’ amusement. Gladiolus glances sideways for confirmation: Noctis nods too.

A wolfish smirk comes over Gladiolus’ mouth, and he wastes no time. He points himself down, pressing forward and rubbing beneath Ignis’ tight sac, and he spends a few torturous seconds teasing the pink rim of Ignis’ entrance. Ignis doesn’t quite _whine_ , but his usual control is visibly compromised. Noctis idly watches for a moment, then barks, “Just do it.”

“Yes, Sir,” Gladiolus grunts, almost chuckling. He obeys with a sudden thrust that stabs his cock inside, and Ignis shoots his hand over his mouth to muffle his strangled cry. Gladiolus grits his teeth the second he’s inside, hissing as he keeps going, chiseled hips stuttering to drive himself deeper in. Noctis leans forward, wondering with sick fascination if he’ll soon be able to see a bulge in Ignis’ flat stomach—Gladiolus is _that big._

He doesn’t: he can’t see enough. While Gladiolus is still valiantly pushing further, Noctis orders, “Move his leg so I can see.”

At first, Gladiolus doesn’t seem to hear him, but then Ignis groans behind his hand, and Gladiolus pauses, panting and grinning in satisfaction—he must’ve gotten himself fully inside. Considering his size, that’s an admirable feat. Then he looks down at Ignis’ knees and plucks the one closest to Noctis off his shoulder. He pushes it sideways, bending it down against the mattress, and Ignis lets himself be arranged like a pliant doll built to entertain his prince. The position can’t be comfortable, but it gives Noctis a better view of Gladiolus’ girth stuffed between Ignis’ cheeks. It’s just as hot as he expected.

Gladiolus mutters, “You could get a better look if you were closer.”

Noctis is close enough. He knows that if he sits on the bed, he’ll just be a part of it, and that’s a different animal—another conversation for another day. As it is, he leaves the intimacy up to them and stays right where he is. But he does ask, with a voice as casual as he can manage, “What’s it like?” And he means: what does it feel like inside _Ignis_ in particular. 

He isn’t surprised when Gladiolus breathes, “Tight.” He punctuates his statement with a little flex of his hips, earning another hitch of breath from Ignis and a moaned, “ _Ridiculously_ tight.” He reaches down to pet Ignis’ stomach, enormous fingers smoothing over the subtle pattern of a washboard, and he adds, “You should try it sometime.”

It’s not like Noctis hasn’t thought about it. Ignis’ eyes are firmly on the ceiling, half-lidded while his cheeks are flushed, knuckles white against the sheets. Noctis can’t help but wonder if Ignis’ channel really is that _tight_ , or if it’s just that Gladiolus has a giant’s dick. Everyone’s probably tight to him. 

Noctis could ask Ignis, but Ignis seems to still be adjusting, so he leaves it be and decides: “Do it slow and smooth.”

Gladiolus obeys. He draws his hips back in a languid circle, letting his wet cock slide out of Ignis, one gorgeous centimeter at a time that Noctis hungrily eyes up. His pants are growing uncomfortably tight, but he thinks he can make it a little longer. He kneads himself through the fabric as Gladio circles back to push in, and Ignis stifles a flighty gasp that goes straight to Noctis’ cock. 

He’d meant to not be _too_ overbearing—to just tell them to fuck, sit back, and get off—but it’s second nature to tell Ignis how to serve him. Before he can stop himself, he’s ordered, “Iggy, don’t cover your mouth. Don’t hold back.” 

Ignis nods, always so well behaved, and withdraws his trembling hand. On Gladiolus’ next thrust, he lets out a ragged moan, which seems to fill Gladiolus’ cock as much as Noctis’. As much as they’re doing this _for Noctis,_ he can’t help but notice the way Gladiolus’ eyes appreciatively glue to Ignis’ body. Somehow, that only makes it hotter. Gladiolus _should_ value what he’s been given. Ignis’ eyes catch Gladiolus’ on the next thrust, and the one after that comes just a little harder, just a little faster, despite Noctis’ orders. He decides not to correct them. 

He watches Gladiolus drill in and out, rhythm steady but gradually increasing, and then he adds, “Touch more.” Ignis’ arms instantly lift, skilled fingers finding Gladiolus’ tattoo-covered shoulders and tracing softly around. At the same time, Gladiolus bears forward, bending in while one beefy arm slips beneath Ignis’ waist, forcing him to arch up, and the other comes up to Ignis’ face. Gladiolus’ fingers twist into Ignis’ brushed-back hair, and he guides Ignis’ mouth open, making it easier for him to thrust inside. He goes for a big, wet make-out session right away, skipping all the little nips and foreplay in favour of filling Ignis up. Ignis doesn’t complain; merely opens and adds his tongue to the fray. The way they bend over each other so closely somewhat obscures the view, but it’s worth it to see them grind into one another and suck on each other’s tongues. Noctis finally pops open his fly.

He’s damn lucky, and he knows it. They’re both amazing catches. It’s better than any porn he’s ever seen, and not just because he can _smell_ the stench of sex, can hear the slick, slapping noises echoing throughout the room, can watch every little detail from the way Gladiolus’ built ass dimples which each thrust to the way the bed clatters lightly against the wall. By the time he’s got his cock in his hand, it’s rock-hard. He pauses just long enough to spit into his palm before furiously stroking himself in time with their wild fucking. It isn’t slow and steady anymore. Gladiolus is pounding Ignis into the mattress with a warrior’s ferocity, while Ignis writhes and moans.

In the middle of a particularly long thrust, Gladiolus pulls his mouth free long enough to pant, “Any more instructions?”

“Yeah,” Noctis mutters, his hand slowing down just to take the edge off. “Fuck him good. He deserves it.”

Gladiolus grins and slams down hard enough to make the bed shake. Ignis cries out, head tossing to the side, and Gladiolus bites into his jaw, dragging back down his throat. One of Ignis’ hands tangles in Gladiolus’ dark hair, but Gladiolus doesn’t seem to mind the tug. When Ignis’ eyes peek open beneath his glasses, catching Noctis’ eye, Noctis asks, “How’re you liking it, Specs?”

Ignis opens his mouth, but the next thrust seems to cut him off. It takes him a second to catch his breath again, and he answers, his normally level voice husky and punctured, “He’s quite... proficient.” Noctis can’t help a little smirk of his own, even though it’s Gladiolus being complimented. It’s just so very _Ignis_.

Ignis shuts his eyes again and presses his face against Gladiolus’, expression screwed up like it’s taking everything he has to not to splatter both their stomachs. It doesn’t seem like Gladiolus has thought to return the favour, and Noctis doesn’t order him to—somehow, Noctis is confident that Ignis can, and will, come without anyone touching his cock. Noctis makes a mental note to make it up to him next time, because there _will_ be a next time. 

Then Gladiolus pulls back, hips still going but upper body lifting away from Ignis’ unraveling hold, and he warns Noctis, “I’m gonna come.”

Noctis orders, “Don’t.”

“No offense, but that might not be something you can command.”

“Ignis won’t come until he’s told,” Noctis counters, voice cool but firm. “ _He_ knows who he belongs to.” Ignis shivers again, and Gladiolus gives Noctis a little glare. Noctis just keeps languidly stroking his cock, convinced his shield won’t fail him.

Before they can see if he’s right, there’s a faint knocking sound beyond the bedroom. Gladiolus pauses for a fraction of a second, but he doesn’t stop. Noctis ignores it. Then his phone goes off in his pocket, and as much as he wants to ignore that too, he knows Prompto—the only person it’s likely to be—will worry if he doesn’t. He never misses a text. At least, not this late in the afternoon when it’s prime time for the King’s Knight scoreboards. 

He still leaves one hand on his dick as he fishes his phone out of his pocket with the other. A click, and the screen flicks on, showing a text from Prompto, just as he’d thought. It reads: _Noct, Noct._

Noctis snorts at the pun and considers showing it to Ignis. But then his mind’s moved on to picturing his best friend outside his door, grinning too as he texts. His cute face is probably painted all up with excitement, like it always is to see Noctis, like Noctis is his _whole world._

Or maybe Noctis is just thinking with his dick and shouldn’t be dealing with friends right now. When he stares at his phone, all he can think about is how cute Prompto looks when he’s got a bright blush across his freckles. Besides, Noctis already has his other two ‘best friends’ involved.

But he _owns_ them. Prompto isn’t _his_ , not like that, and Prompto’s such a _good friend_ —he doesn’t deserve to be exposed to Noctis’ depravity. Because Noctis knows if he answers the door, he’ll just take advantage of his precious Prom, he announces, “Stop.”

Gladiolus instantly freezes, buried balls-deep in Ignis’ round ass. He shoots Noctis a _look_ , but Noctis ignores it, drawling, “Prom’s at the door. Ignis, go deal with it.” He doesn’t specify how, because he’s not exactly sure how, but Ignis will figure it out. Always does.

Gladiolus growls, “Are you serious?” But Ignis is already shoving him off, and Gladiolus, looking thoroughly disgruntled, is forced to sit back and pull out of Ignis’ channel. Ignis groans but keeps moving. Noctis stares first at Gladiolus’ slicked-up cock, then Ignis’ gaping hole as he climbs off the mattress and collects his clothes.

It isn’t until Ignis’ ass is completely covered that Noctis manages to order, “Gladio, sit back against the headboard and jerk yourself off—but keep it down until we know Prom’s gone.” Gladiolus’ face twists—clearly, he’d rather have Ignis’ ass, but that’s already leaving the room. So he moves to sit back against the headboard, spreads his legs, and drops one hand to his cock. It’s not the same as watching that cock pound into Ignis’ austere beauty, but it’s still a good enough view to keep Noctis’ erection happy. Gladiolus has abs like no one else. At least this way, every one of his rippling muscles is put out on display, and it’s easier to see his dick as he twists his hand up and down it, fingers occasionally pausing to play with the foreskin. Noctis keeps stroking his. 

They’re alone for maybe two minutes before there’s a commotion in the other room, and before Noctis can do anything to deal with it, Prompto’s bursting right into the bedroom. Fully dressed and perfectly appropriate and wearing an absolutely adorable, kicked puppy-dog look, he whines, “What’re you all doing without m—” But the answer to that unfinished statement must be abundantly clear, so it’s no surprise when he cuts off. His hurt expression abruptly morphs into one of shock as he ogles Gladiolus’ naked body, then Noctis, then Noctis’ lap. Noctis doesn’t cover it, partially because he’s frozen in shock and partially because Gladiolus is way more undressed than he is. Prompto makes a few wordless noises, floundering, before finally managing, “What... what’re you doing...?”

“I’m sorry, Noct,” Ignis provides, coming in behind Prompto. Prompto swirls around to look at him, then back to Noctis. Noctis waits for Ignis to ‘deal with it,’ but evidently, Ignis is waiting on Noctis, probably to see how much Noctis wants to reveal.

Eventually, Noctis manages to wet his lips and mutter, “They were, uh... putting on a show for me...”

Prompto’s blue eyes go impossibly wider. He looks at Gladiolus, who’s pulled a pillow over his lap, and then to Ignis, who evenly meets his gaze. Prompto blushes all the way to his ears. Noctis waits for him to shiver in disgust and bolt.

But when he returns his gaze to Noctis, he asks, small and hesitant, like he’s more worried about being left out again than anything, “Can I, um...?” He doesn’t finish.

Noctis offers, “Watch?”

“Yeah.”

Noctis shrugs, deciding, “Sure,” because he couldn’t get rid of Prompto now if he wanted to. His dick wouldn’t allow it, which is a horrible thought, so he makes himself look back at Ignis instead, who’s slowly begun stripping. 

He can still _feel_ Prompto lighting up. Prompto chirps, “Cool!” like he’s determined to pretend this is normal, and then he’s disappeared from the room, only to reappear a minute later with a chair from the dining room, dragged over to the bed right next to Noctis’. _Really close_ to Noctis’. Their legs touch when Prompto sits down. He doesn’t pull himself out, but spreads his legs—nudging harder against Noctis’ thigh—and clasps his hands against the chair between them, leaning forward. Gladiolus groans and clunks his head back against the wall.

“I think Gladio’s having a rough time,” Noctis observes. Somehow, the direction doesn’t come any harder for Prompto’s presence—he still slips into the role of arbitrator, with full command over all his pawns. But that makes him think of Prompto as one of his pieces still waiting on the sidelines, ready to enter play, so he shakes it off and finishes, “Make it up to him with your mouth, Iggy.”

Ignis nods agreeably and finishes unbuttoning his shirt. Prompto lets out a quiet gasp when the material hits the floor. Then Ignis is pushing down his pants, and it takes everything Noctis has not to turn and see Prompto’s reaction. He keeps his eyes on the bed, on the way Ignis elegantly crawls right onto it, stalking forward to settle between Gladiolus’ legs. Looking down at him with a new ferocity and _lust_ , Gladiolus tosses the pillow away. In his peripherals, Noctis can see Prompto’s gloved hand shooting to his mouth. He understands. He had a similar reaction the first time he saw Gladiolus’ gigantic cock. 

Ignis leans down to drag his tongue along it, while Gladiolus’ fingers slip into his hair. It takes several more licks and kisses and even little nips before Ignis finally opens wide, descending to swallow up the head, which he suckles on and hollows out his cheeks for, making Noctis’ cock pulse hotly in his hand. Gladiolus groans and almost bucks forward, catching himself after just a little stutter that Ignis takes in stride. Then Ignis returns to swallowing as much as he can, though he can’t seem to get more than halfway, which is just fine by Noctis—it’s not like he can see Gladiolus’ length shoving down Ignis’ throat. It’s just nice to think about. He likes seeing the base still exposed, knowing that Ignis is probably struggling just to stay on, let alone to lick and suck like he’s doubtless doing. It’s hard to imagine Ignis being bad at anything, blowjobs very much included. Gladiolus certainly doesn’t look like he has any complaints.

Noctis doesn’t. He thinks to check with Prompto, but when he looks aside, Prompto quickly looks away, and Noctis realizes that Prompto was staring at _him_ , at his cock enveloped in his own hand. Prompto’s dark jeans are already heavily tented. He’s biting his lip, and Noctis wonders again just what he can make Prompto do. Probably _anything_.

He’s telling himself he shouldn’t when Gladiolus growls loud, drawing back all the attention, and Noctis looks over just in time to see Gladiolus shove Ignis down. Gladiolus’ hips canter up into Ignis’ stretched mouth, and Ignis shudders and holds himself in place as Gladiolus fills him up—Noctis has no doubt that Gladiolus is coming right down Ignis’ hot throat. A few stray beads of white bubble up at the corners of Ignis’ fucked-swollen lips, but Noctis can see Ignis’ throat bobbing to swallow up the rest. Gladiolus moans right through it, while Ignis dutifully sucks him clean.

When Gladiolus stills, Ignis pops off, a thin trail of saliva or seed dragging out between Gladiolus’ shining cockhead and Ignis’ red tongue. That’s what pushes Noctis over the edge—what makes him grunt and buck up into his hand, splattering himself with his release. His orgasm is giddy and satisfying, but instead of his usual clear-headed rush, he’s filled with images of pushing Prompto down and ordering Prompto to lick it all up. Or maybe waving Ignis over. Maybe Gladiolus too—he could paint all their faces, then sit back and start up again while they kissed each other clean, solely for his amusement. 

By the time he’s spiraling back down, slumping in his chair, he’s convinced he’s the sort of tyrant who should never have any power. Even if everyone in the room looks perfectly happy to be there. Gladiolus has collapsed back into the pillows with a thoroughly satisfied look on his face, Ignis still patiently laid out before him.

Prompto’s shaking. Noctis looks over to find him flushed and breathing hard, fully dilated pupils fixated on the mess in Noctis’ lap. Noctis opens his mouth.

He orders, “Ignis, come.” He doesn’t stick around through the languid moan that follows. He jerks up to his feet and marches off for the shower, leaving his three perfect subjects behind.


End file.
